


nature's first green is gold

by pied_pollo



Series: Nothing Gold Can Stay [1]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Animal Death, Character Study, Dad Gil, Don't Kill Me, Drunk Malcolm, Episode: s01e09 Pied-A-Terre, Episode: s01e11 Alone Time, Episode: s01e12 Internal Affairs, Episode: s01e14 Eye of the Needle, Flashbacks, Gapfill, Introspection, Jackie needs more fics, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Panic Attacks, Scene Breakdown, Suicidal Thoughts, hey look it's a series now!, ish, only for a little bit but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24900460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pied_pollo/pseuds/pied_pollo
Summary: Sunshine doesn't mind his tremor.
Series: Nothing Gold Can Stay [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1824919
Comments: 29
Kudos: 60





	nature's first green is gold

He asks himself the question all the time: “What could possibly go wrong?” And the answer is always the same. Everything always goes wrong, and Malcolm is always disappointed.

He slides down the wall, his hand shaking violently. He can hear the _click-clack_ of Eve’s heels down the stairs, growing more and more distant as she leaves. The front door creaks, then closes with a resounding slam. The air is humming with an uncomfortable silence broken only by the sound of Malcolm’s own ragged breathing.

The knife is still in his grasp--it’s clean, thank god. His fingers enclose around the hilt in a death grip, vibrating in sync with his shaking hand. Malcolm feels the tears start to fall. His chest squeezes.

He was going to kill her.

Malcolm throws the knife as far away as possible, then tucks his legs to his chest and buries his face between his knees, rocking slowly. He knocks his head against his knees--once, twice--as he shakes under the weight of what just happened.

_He’s eighteen and alone, pacing his apartment, shaking hard. He’s squeezing the phone so tight his knuckles are white, and he digs his socked feet into the rug, stepping around the broken glass. He’s breathing hard, too hard, and too fast. His heart pounds in his ears--ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum-ba-dum-ba-dum._

_Malcolm’s eyes go to the broken shards on the floor. Stray pieces dig into his socks, but he can’t feel it. He bends down, picks up a large piece. Holds it to his arm. Trembles. Throws it to the ground, because he’s too much of a coward to go through with it._

He sits like this for a while, gritting his teeth against the tears, until a small squawk brings him out of his reverie. Sunshine is clawing at the bars, twittering. She wants out. Malcolm gets to jello legs and shuffles to the cage. Unlocks it. Reaches out and pets her head gently. Sunshine is used to his tremor.

_He’s twenty-two and alone, standing outside Claremont. It’s December and freezing; the icy air bites his skin and numbs his fingers. From a distance, it looks like he’s shaking from the cold. But a closer look will reveal the tears running down his face. His harsh breathing mingles in harmony with the roaring wind. There’s nowhere to go, so Malcolm pulls out his phone. Gil picks up on the first ring, and Malcolm blurts out: “I’m at Claremont.” His voice shakes._

_Gil doesn’t ask questions; Malcolm can hear him grabbing his car keys over the line. “On my way,” he says, “just hang in there.”_

He’s hanging, all right. He’s got one hand on the ledge, dangling, gripping the cliff with unsteady fingers. But Sunshine gives another small chirp, and that brings him back. Two hands on the ledge. His legs dangle, but he’s got a grip on reality, and for him, that’s good enough.

* * *

His apartment hasn’t changed since he left. Malcolm steps inside and cradles his bad arm to his chest. Broken wings. He takes in a shaky breath and a few more steps forward before the wave hits. It was going to, eventually. Malcolm can only ignore it for so long. Like a suction cup, he’s back in the present, and it hurts.

_Somehow, he thought telling his father he was applying to Quantico would be bad. But that anxiety didn’t compare to how he felt telling his mother._

_It was everything and nothing. A series of events: He opens his mouth. Says a few words. His mother stares, puts her face in her hands. Inhales, exhales. Says a few words. Shakes her head in disappointment. Leaves without offering him a ride home._

_But Gil was excited. When Malcolm got accepted into the academy, he went to celebrate. It was the four of them--Gil, Jackie, Ainsley, him. Drinking milkshakes and laughing. Pats on the back. Acceptance, as a family of four would have. Should have._

He sinks to his knees, and the descent is slowed by someone hooking their arms underneath him. Malcolm’s legs fold in on themselves like origami, and he doesn’t stop the sob that breaks from his throat.

A voice: “You’re okay. It’s over now.”

Malcolm shakes, doesn’t blink, hiccups with tears that clog his throat and sinuses. The voice--Gil, he remembers--wraps his arms around him, holding him up, steadying him. He presses a palm into his back and makes soothing circles. He presses his lips to his forehead and murmurs: “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, kid.”

When Malcolm doesn’t stop crying, Gil rubs his arms up and down Malcolm’s, minding his injuries, and walks around to crouch in front of him. It’s familiar.

“Malcolm,” he says softly, though his words are almost drowned out by the hyperventilating. “Look at me. You’re at home. You’re not with Watkins anymore. You’re here, with me, and Ainsley and Jessica are safe. Safe because of _you_ ,” he adds, with an affectionate pat on the shoulder.

Gil moves out of the way, and Malcolm can see Sunshine, watching. She lets out a confused chirp.

“Look at her,” Gil says. “Look at Sunshine. She missed you. Do you want to say hello?”

Malcolm nods, still shaking, still sobbing, but quieter now. He gets to his feet and Gil holds his arm as they both walk to Sunshine’s cage. She hops on her perch, tweeting in what seems to be surprise.

_Four down to two, sitting in the hospital room. Waiting for what they know is something bad. And when the third of their family walks out and the doctor gives them the news, neither of them are surprised. They give hollow nods and wonder how they’re going to tell Ainsley that Jackie has six months left. Wonder why it isn’t eight, twelve, more. Wonder how they could have missed this. Wonder what happens next._

Malcolm lets out a strangled half-laugh, and flings open the perch. The tears flow, harder, as he takes Sunshine with both hands and cradles her to his chest. His sobs are audible, now--hard, devastating sobs that hurt his chest. Sunshine wriggles, uncomfortable, and Malcolm pets her on the head. Sunshine inches away, moving back inside the cage, and Malcolm’s heart breaks.

“Why doesn’t she love me?” he asks, his voice cracking.

“No, no, kid,” Gil soothes, hand on his shoulder. “She’s just confused. You were gone a few days, and she’s scared. She just needs to adjust to life with you again.”

“She’s scared of me,” Malcolm whispers.

Gil reaches out his finger, clicking his tongue softly. Sunshine is familiar with him; and hops onto his outstretched hand. He gives her a few pets before holding her out to Malcolm, who snivels and holds out his palm. After a moment of inspecting, Sunshine moves from Gil to Malcolm.

“I missed you,” Malcolm coos shakily. “I missed you, girl.” His voice breaks with a choked sob. “I missed you, Sunshine. I’m sorry. I’m never going to do that again, promise.”

Sunshine twitters like she recognizes him again. Malcolm laughs and kisses her on the head, repeating his promises: to stay. To love her. To get better. Because he really missed her, and he knows she did, too.

* * *

Take a break? That’s a challenge. Luckily, Malcolm isn’t alone. He’s on the couch, hands folded on his lap. Gil closes the door gently and his footsteps are soft as he leaves the loft. Malcolm swirls the alcohol in his glass before setting it on the counter. It’s not a surprise when he turns his head to see himself staring back.

_He’s twenty-four and he’s never gotten drunk. He’s too scared because he knows what could happen, and the only time he drinks is on the weekends, in the comfort of his loft. But when the first time actually comes, Malcolm never expected it to happen in a hospital._

 _Jackie’s sitting in a chair, rubbing an alcohol pad across the PICC line in her arm. Malcolm watches her stick the IV in, press a few buttons on the pump, and set the pole to the side. She turns back to him: “So you never, ever,_ ever _got drunk?”_

_“No,” Malcolm admits._

_Jackie chuckled and reached into her bag, pulling out a small flask. Malcolm’s eyes widened in surprise._

_“That’s against the rules,” he says dumbly._

_“What are they going to do--kick me out?” Jackie snorts conspiratorially. She hands him the flask. “I want to see Drunk Malcolm before I die. Let him loose.”_

_Malcolm shifts in his seat, and Jackie softens. “I know this is an uncomfortable topic,” she says gently. “You don’t have to do it.”_

_The corner of Malcolm’s mouth twitches as he unscrews the flask, before breaking into a smile. “Don’t tell Gil?”_

_“Cross my heart,” Jackie promises with mock seriousness, taking a finger and drawing an “x” over her chest._

Malcolm shakes his head. “It’s all so devastating,” he sighs, with a pointed nod at the hallucination. “He tried to kill us.”

“But he didn’t,” his younger self says softly, with a half-smile.

Malcolm returns the gesture, but whatever he’s going to say next is interrupted by the fluttering of wings and pinch of claws. Sunshine perches on his wrist, settling comfortably.

“I’m a civilian now, Sunshine,” he tells her with a sigh. “We’re gonna have lots of time together.” He turns his head to gesture to the hallucination. “Just you, me, and--”

His younger self isn’t there. Malcolm exhales slowly, blinks a few times, then sighs. “We’re gonna be okay.”

This time, he believes it.

_Thirty minutes later and they’re in the car, having barely sneaked out of the hospital without suspicion. Malcolm’s unsteady on his feet and giggling as the world dips around him. “M’dizzy,” he remarks._

_“I know,” Jackie laughs, starting the car. “Feel okay, though?”_

_“Yeah,” Malcolm says, before something twinges his gut and saliva floods his mouth. “No,” he corrects himself, before promptly opening the car door to vomit. Acid burns his throat, and Jackie rubs his back, wincing in a secondhand hangover._

_Malcolm lifts his head back up and his equilibrium vanishes. He pitches backward into Jackie’s lap, eyes crossed, head pounding. Jackie giggles. “You good, champ?”_

_“Spinning,” he says woozily. “Flying.”_

_“Flying is what you say when you’re high,” she corrects him._

_“Am high,” he insists. “Soooo high. Like a bird. I love birds. Make me so, so happy.”_

_Jackie’s laughter makes his head bounce on her stomach. “Birds, hm?”_

_“Beautiful,” Malcolm agrees. “Always wanted wings. Flyin’ away. Into the sun. Up, up...I’m afraid of heights.”_

_The realization brings tears to his eyes, and Jackie laughs harder, which makes him even sadder. “Don’ laugh,” he sobs. “Don’ laugh. Everyone always laughs at me.”_

_Jackie settles, then strokes his forehead. “I’m not laughing,” she says, amusement tinging her voice. “Oh, Malcolm. Bright boy. This was a mistake, my little chickadee.”_

_“Tweet,” he slurs. They stay like that until Malcolm falls asleep, then Jackie puts the car out of park and rides home, going slowly. And while she’s driving, she gets an idea._

Malcolm stands up carefully so as not to jostle the bird on his wrist, then walks to the fridge. For once, it’s stocked with food, but Malcolm only takes a tupperware of mashed potatoes before striding back to the counter. Sunshine hops on, and her claws _click-clack_ on the marble as she hops around.

The potatoes are still warm; no use microwaving. Malcolm eats slowly and silently.

This is going to be a very long two weeks. But he’ll get through it--he and his girl.

* * *

The only sound is the steady beeping and whirring of a ventilator. Malcolm never thought he’d ever grieve for his father, but here he is hoping Dr. Whitly doesn’t die. Greater good, that’s why he did it. Greater good. Hit or miss. What if he missed? Does he wish he had missed?

The shinking of the ice pick. Everything always changes in a moment. It wasn’t even hard, and Malcolm’s tremor didn’t show up at all. Clean and effortless. Noise and clarity. The greater good. A twisting darkness inside of him, a muted evil that made Malcolm able to impale his own father. His own father, who was familiar to the thrust of the blade. He knew how to do it. So did Malcolm. Teamwork. Clean and effortless. Like father, like son.

_He’s crying when Gil enters the loft. He’s still wearing all black, and the suit is uncomfortable. Jackie insisted he not wear black at her funeral, but his pleas went unheard. Respect. The last time he sees her, he’s disappointing her by going against her death wish._

_But that’s not her death wish. Gil’s got something held behind his back, his face an exhausted mirror of Malcolm’s. When he furrows his brow in confusion, Gil carefully sets the cage on the table. His voice is soft and cracked with lack of use: “Look at this.”_

_There’s something small, yellow, and green in the cage. It twitters, new feathers and all. “Is that a bird?” Malcolm whispers._

_“Yeah,” Gil chuckles. “Jackie’s will. She left money for you to take care of her.”_

_“She did?”_

_Gil nods, his face cracking in a pained smile. “I’ve got seed in the car, a water bowl.”_

_Malcolm hesitates. “I don’t know if I can do it.”_

_Gil smiles. “Jackie told me you would say that. But you know what? I think she knew you could.”_

_Malcolm wipes a hand over his eyes and Gil continues. “I think this little bird needs you. And I think taking care of her will bring a little more light into your life. It could give you closure.”_

_Malcolm sniffs and opens the cage to reach his hand out. The bird gave him a suspicious look, before taking a tentative step forward. Malcolm scratched her head with a finger, then stopped, surprised. “She doesn’t flinch.”_

_“At your tremor?” Gil asks. Malcolm nods. “Smart girl. Loves you already, kid.”_

_The bird chirps, and Malcolm laughs out loud._

_Gil smiles, putting a hand on his hip. “What are you going to name her?”_

“Sunshine,” Malcolm whispers, as Gil walks up next to him outside the hospital room.

“What?”

“I forgot to feed Sunshine,” Malcolm realizes, turning around.

“No, it’s okay,” Gil says, pressing a palm to his chest. “It’s okay. You take this time.”

Malcolm melts. “Why do I feel bad?” he asks. His voice is soft and small.

“He’s your father,” Gil says. “And as much as that sucks, there’s always going to be a part of you that loves him.”

“It’s wrong,” Malcolm says, shaking his head. “It’s not logical.”

“It’s very logical,” Gil insists. “You don’t want your dad to die. That’s natural.” He pauses, then takes in a deep breath. “Kid...what happened there?”

“Jessica stabbed him,” Malcolm says numbly. The lie feels loose and heavy in his mouth.

“Jessica?” Gil asks skeptically.

Malcolm nods slowly, and he knows Gil knows the truth, but neither say anything. They stay silent. Silence is clean and effortless. Silence has noise and clarity. They’re silent together. Teamwork. The greater good. Like father, like son.

* * *

He’s back from a case when it happens.

He opens the door, and it’s silent. Too silent. Without looking, Malcolm wrestles his phone out of his pocket and dials hard.

“Gil,” he whispers, then gulps. His voice raises in volume. “Gil. _Gil. Gil._ ” It’s like a mantra; Malcolm says his name over and over again, like a broken record. He’s frozen in place.

Gil is saying something. Malcolm tunes back in: “ _What? Are you in trouble? Are you hurt? Talk to me, Bright._ ”

Malcolm takes a few steps forward and looks at the bundle huddled in a corner of her cage. He sobs once, hard, then breathes in and out rapidly.

Gil curses over the phone and Malcolm can hear him starting the car. “ _I’m coming. Don’t move. Stay with me, kid. Talk to me so I know you’re still there._ ”

“Sunshine,” he croaks.

“ _I know, I know. Just don’t move. I'm coming_ ”

“No,” Malcolm whispers. His hand shakes, violently, in sync with his body. It’s like an earthquake. He crouches down, presses his hands to the floor. “Gil. Gil. Please.”

“ _Almost there. Almost there, just stay on the phone._ ”

A keening noise breaks from Malcolm’s throat, and he doesn’t notice Gil’s in the room until his hands grab his shoulders and pull him into his chest. “I’ve got you,” Gil murmurs. “Oh, Bright. I’m so sorry, kid.”

Malcolm doesn’t speak. He can’t. He just rocks with Gil, a high-pitched whine escaping him with intermittent gasps for breath. He shakes, and Gil hugs him tighter. Malcolm hyperventilates until he chokes on his saliva and he coughs harshly, and the coughs turn to frantic gags, and Gil’s never looked so desperate.

He thinks he’s hit rock bottom, but there’s always something more.

“Gil,” he realizes, “I didn’t pet her. I didn’t pet her before I left.”

Gil doesn’t say anything. Malcolm stumbles to his feet and staggers to the cage. He takes Sunshine with shaky hands-- _she never minded his tremor_ \--and strokes her wings. He rocks on the balls of his feet, petting her, kissing her, while Gil watches on, heartbroken.

“Ten years,” Malcolm mumbles. “Ten years. She was supposed to live ten years.”

“Jackie got her when she was three,” Gil says softly.

“Three?” Malcolm whispers.

Gil nods. “Bright,” he says, “Sunshine lived for _twelve_ years.”

Malcolm sobs, pressing his lips to his bird’s limp head.

“She loved me?” he rasps.

“More than anyone,” Gil says. “Both of them did.”

“I love you,” Malcolm whispers to Sunshine, after a moment. “I love you. I’m sorry, girl. I’m so sorry. You were the best.”

Gil gets off his knees and puts both hands on Malcolm’s shoulders. And they don’t talk. They don’t hug. They stand there, with broken wings. Broken hearts. A family portrait of four plus one, minus three, and two of them are never coming back, so they cry and promise each other that they’ll take care of one another--if not for themselves, then for her. For both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> So at first this was just going to be post-pied-a-terre but then jackie got involved and then sunshine got involved. I didn't mean to kill her off, but it sort of...happened. I'm sorry. Truly. Maybe.


End file.
